The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
“Jake” from ‘Two and a Half Men’ spotted in rare sighting for first time in years – and he’s unrecognizable
If you’re anything like me, you’ll have to rack your brains to recall the name Angus T. Jones.
Yet the moment I say “Jake” from Two and a Half Men… that’s right, if you’ve ever watched that show, you’ll instantly remember the adorable, witty young man who lived with his father, Alan Harper (Jon Cryer), and uncle, Charlie (Charlie Sheen).
You also might get to wondering just what happened to the actor who played him (the aforementioned Angus T. Jones). At one point in time, it seemed as though the child actor was a burgeoning star with a terrific career ahead of him in the entertainment industry.
Yet these days sighting for Jones are few and far between. He practically dropped off the radar after his time on Two and a Half Men ended more than a decade ago, and his last credited TV appearance was on a 2016 episode of Horace and Pete.
That could be why a recent shot of the now-30-year-old is causing such a stir. The former child star looks absolutely unrecognizable in the picture in question!
It appeared to be one of TV’s great mysteries at the time, why Angus T. Jones went dark after leaving Two and a Half Men.
During his run with the show, the previously unheralded Jones had become one of the highest-paid child actors on television – he reportedly made $300,000 for each episode during the height of the sitcom. Then, over ten years ago, he left the show, before announcing in 2012 that he had no intention of returning for its 11th season.
Speaking in a 2014 interview with KHOU, he Jones said: “It was making light of topics in our world that are really problems for a lot of people.
“I was a paid hypocrite because I wasn’t OK with it, but I was still doing it.”
As per reports, Angus did a lot of soul-searching in 2012, which led to him finding a new religious path and rediscovering his faith.
He joined the Seventh-day Adventist church, a Protestant Christian church known for its decidedness to diet and health and its conservative principles and lifestyle.
These days, many have forgotten about the fresh-faced youngster who entertained millions with his charm and philosophical lines. Angus reportedly moved to Colorado and studied religion at the University of Colorado Boulder.
“Going to college was something I was really, really excited about,” he told People in 2016.
He added: “I wasn’t the center of everyone’s attention, and that was nice.”
Recently, though, a new image of the ex-child star has surfaced, and it’s one that has got a lot of people talking online.
In the picture, the once fresh-faced, clean-shaven Jones sported a thick beard and glasses, with many shocked by the apparent transformation he’s undergone over the years!
According to Page Six, Jones looked, “unrecognizable.”
One commenter claimed that he, “Doesn’t look healthy.”
One user wrote, “[…] What happened to him!!” “He became one and a half men,” remarked one individual.
However, many of his fans also defended Jones writing, “Of course, he’s unrecognizable…he was a kid on the show and it’s years later.”
What do you think? Has Angus T. Jones changed that much since the ending of Two and a Half Men?
Let us know thoughts in the comments box below. Meanwhile, share this article on Facebook to help us further our aim of keeping folks entertained and informed.
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